


A Heartbeat At My Feet

by rebelmeg



Series: Earth's Mightiest Heroes... And Their Pets [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Incredible Hulk (2008)
Genre: And shares it with Natasha, BFFs Steve and Bucky, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Bruce Banner Feels, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Dogs, Everyone needs a furry friend, Fluff, Gen, Go read "Man's Best Friend" first!, It's a freaking zoo, Kitten, Like a teaspoon of angst, Maybe a tablespoon in Bucky's chapter, Pets, Related one-shots, Roombas, SO MUCH FLUFF, Science Bros, Steve's dog is in love, The Bots, There is so much cute, Thor adopts a kitten, Tony Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, hamster - Freeform, therapy dogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-22 01:48:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11957139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelmeg/pseuds/rebelmeg
Summary: The Avengers Tower has been a better place since the arrival of Steve's new best friend, Maurice the golden retriever.  So, naturally, more furry creatures slowly make their way into the lives of the Avengers.





	1. A Kitten is the Delight of a Household

**Author's Note:**

> That lovely title is taken from a quote by Edith Wharton, "My little dog- a heartbeat at my feet." And it was too sweet and poetic not to use. The title for the first chapter is taken from a quote by Champfleury.
> 
> This is set somewhere between Avengers and Iron Man 3, in the glorious off-screen age of the Avengers Family living together in the Avengers Tower and having awesome Sit-Com Experiences. This also takes place after a previous fic of mine, Man's Best Friend, in which Steve adopts his dog (this fic is listed as the first part of the series, but it's not, it's part two and I can't figure out how to fix it). It's a sweet fic, I loved writing it, but it's not absolutely necessary to read it to understand this fic. 
> 
> [HERE ARE PICS OF THE PETS!](http://rebelmeg.tumblr.com/post/176214932166/slides-through-dont-mind-me-i-just-finally)
> 
> I truly adore kudos and comments, as well as feedback. I read and respond to every single comment, and usually end up smiling like an idiot when I get one. I also live in fear of typos and simple grammatical errors, so please let me know if you spot one, or if a sentence doesn't read very smoothly. *Mwah!*
> 
> My dragon hoard of nonsense I love is on [Tumblr](http://rebelmeg.tumblr.com/).

**Chapter One**  
_A Kitten is the Delight of a Household_

“Maurice!”

A blond streak went flying through the communal kitchen and living room, slowed long enough to be identified as a dog as it wheeled around the sectional sofa, then went flying back through the kitchen and to the elevator that Steve had just barely exited, red leash in hand.

“What has gotten into you?!” Steve panted, having just chased the dog through the lobby downstairs before catching up to him in the elevator, then losing hold of the blue collar just as the doors opened again on the communal floor. Maurice pranced around Steve’s legs, grinning in the way only a dog can, tongue lolling out of his mouth as he jumped and wagged his tail so hard his backside wiggled.

“You crazy dog, what is it? What’s going on?!” Steve tried to fend off the leaping animal and lapping tongue, but he wasn’t having very much success.

“Ah, Captain,” Thor rounded the corner into the kitchen as he exited the hall, his long legs encased in a pair of jeans with a t-shirt over his wide shoulders, and Steve guessed he had been out walking in the city, dressed as he was. The demi-god had his hands cupped in front of him, holding what looked like a really big dust bunny. “Perhaps you could assist me in identifying this.”

Maurice had gone crazy again, jumping around Thor’s legs before racing in a long oval around the island in the kitchen and the sectional in the living room. Steve threw his hands in the air, briefly giving up trying to understand this particular canine ritual, then looked to Thor. The dust bunny in his hands moved, raising its head and blinking little gray and black eyes.

“Oh! It’s a cat! I think.”

Thor nodded, “Yes, I assumed it might be. The young of that species, I can’t recall the name.”

“Kitten. Yes. Where the heck did you get a kitten? _Why_ the heck did you get a kitten?”

Thor’s mouth tipped up at the corner in a smile. “I nearly stepped on it, actually. I was taking a walk, and on my way back I thought it was a bit of garbage. It moved when I stepped closer, so I investigated further, and…” He nodded at the ball of ratty, dingy fur in his palms.

Steve nodded, and peered closer. The kitten had lowered its head again, and resembled a big ball of dust once more. It’s fur looked straggly and patchy, like it had gotten wet and dried unevenly. “Anyone recognize you today?” Steve asked offhandedly. 

Thor and Steve both had taken to long, meandering walks or motorcycle rides around the city on a frequent basis. Steve to familiarize himself again, and sometimes find something unchanged. Thor to get more acquainted with Earth life and culture. (They also both watched a lot of TV with Clint, but Steve wasn’t sure that anything Thor watched was in any way helpful. He didn’t think the Kardashians or Real Housewives of Anywhere actually had anything to do with what real life was like.)

“No, they rarely do when I dress this way. Our battle dress goes a long way to ensuring our anonymity when we don’t wear it.” Thor held the kitten up at eye level, and it lifted its head again to stare at the demi-god. “What shall we do with it?”

Steve shrugged. “I’ve got no idea. I never had pets until that crazy thing over there.”

Maurice clearly knew he had been mentioned, because he came galloping over and laid right on Thor’s feet, rolling over for belly rubs. Thor looked down at the dog with a smile and shook his head. “I’m afraid not, my friend. You can’t have this particular toy.”

The animal didn’t appear to be offended, just looking up at Thor with doggy adoration, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. Thor lifted his foot out from under the dog and very carefully rubbed it on the furry belly, and Maurice’s eyes went half-mast in canine happiness.

“So,” Thor said, smiling down at the dog one more time before glancing back at Steve. “What shall we do with it?”

They ended up giving the kitten a bath first (when Steve had leaned in for a closer look, the stench of urine and garbage just about sucker-punched his enhanced senses), both wide-shouldered men crowded into the bathroom down the hall and making the room feel far smaller than it actually was. It took them several minutes to arrive at what they deemed was an appropriate water temperature, and even longer for them both to stop immediately picking the kitten back up out of the shallow pool of warm water in the sink as soon as it mewed plaintively. 

Steve finally had to just grit his teeth and do it, trying to gently but efficiently rub a small dab of hand soap into the natty fur, and rinse the squirming, mewling little thing as it dug its tiny, sharp claws into his hands. He deposited the kitten gratefully into Thor’s waiting hand towel, and sighed in relief as the he gingerly dabbed at the wet fur.

“I don’t suppose you know what to feed such a creature?” Thor asked, grabbing another hand towel to lay over the top of the damp kitten, and sliding out of the bathroom.

“Well, cats drink milk, but let me check on that before we do anything. Maybe kittens can’t have milk.” Steve pulled out his phone, the one Stark had given him, and navigated his way to the Google search bar. After a few minutes, which Thor spent transferring the kitten to the dry towel and wrapping it up loosely to keep warm, Steve had the information he needed.

“Okay, turns out milk is bad for all cats, it gives them indigestion, and it’s especially bad for kittens. I thought maybe tuna fish, we have that, but they can only have a little bit, it’s not good for them to have on the regular. Really, it just needs the cat food they make specifically for kittens.”

Thor nodded. “No such thing found here, I’m afraid. Is that an easy thing to buy?”

Steve shrugged. “I would think so, it’s not hard to find dog food. Tony insisted on getting some kind of expensive, fancy dog food, so I don’t actually have to go out and buy any, but there’s even dog food at the corner store. I bet there’s cat food too, I just haven’t noticed. Actually,” Steve held a hand out to Maurice, and petted the eager head that butted up under his hand immediately. “I’ll got get some. Maurice would love another walk, I’ll take him out and we’ll bring back some cat food. Kitten food. Something.”

Thor smiled at him in thanks. “That would be appreciated, thank you. I thought perhaps I might use your little park for Maurice, if I may? I’m not familiar with the bathroom habits of cats, so I thought it might be best to be outside.”

“Oh, yeah, cats use a litter box.” Steve got the leash from the closet by the elevator as he spoke. “But I’m sure it’ll figure things out up there if it needs to, yeah. You can use the park anytime.”

Thor raised his hand in farewell, and Steve followed a dancing Maurice into the elevator, trying and failing to get ahold of the excited dog’s collar.

By the time he got back an hour later, Steve wasn’t sure if he was pleased with himself, or slightly embarrassed. He had gone to the corner store first, stopping at the door with Maurice to ask the man behind the counter if they had cat food for kittens. They had cat food, but nothing specific to kittens, so Steve continued on and ended up at a pet store a few blocks away. Maurice had been thrilled, excitedly greeting the other dogs there, sniffing determinedly at everything in his reach, and he had flirted outrageously with the girl at the checkout counter when she had offered the dog a treat.

Steve had found the kitten food with little difficulty, but was a little taken aback with just how many different brands there were. Finally he had requested help from one of the workers, wanting to get the right kind since Thor was counting on him. The kid helped him figure out which cat food to buy while Maurice leaned adoringly against the teen’s leg, drooling a little bit onto his jeans. And then, he wasn’t quite sure how, Steve had been walking to the front of the store with a cart full of cat paraphernalia, and six new toys for Maurice as well as a bag of dog treats.

He’d had to call a car once he’d paid for everything (and nearly had a heart palpitation at the total, as he still did every time modern prices caught him unawares, and heart palpitations were no joke when you were super soldier with a heart like a machine), and he got off the elevator in the Tower to hear several voices in the communal living room. 

Maurice jogged ahead of him as Steve put the leash away, his nails clicking on the glossy floor, his tail wagging as he picked up the scents of the people in the room.

“Hey, Maurice,” Natasha greeted the dog, petting his head and giving him a scratch behind his ears. “Who’s a good boy?”

“Sorry it took so long,” Steve apologized when he saw Thor was sitting on the sectional with Natasha. “They didn’t have kitten food at the corner store, so I ended up going to a pet store. I got a little bit… carried away.”

Natasha grinned over at him, and nodded to the pile of cat stuff across the room. “Yeah, we saw, they just dropped it off. Making plans for this little dust bunny, huh Steve?”

Steve grinned a little sheepishly, and sat down on Thor’s other side. The kitten was curled up on the towel from before, but it was sleeping peacefully on the demi-god’s thigh. Natasha reached out to stroke a fingertip over its head, toying with the scruffy fur.

“Did it like the park?” Steve asked, holding Maurice’s collar to keep the dog from getting too close in his perusal of the kitten. His wet black nose wiggled furiously as he sniffed at the tiny thing, then with a sneeze and a lick on the hand for Steve, Maurice flopped down on the floor and sighed a deep sigh, content with his life.

“I’m not quite sure, but it did wander ‘round a fair bit. Couldn’t really tell if it ‘did its business’, as I think you say, but it drank some water and chased a leaf for a bit. We just came inside a few minutes ago, after it crawled up my leg and fell asleep.”

“It’s pretty cute, for such a ragged little thing,” Natasha said fondly, rubbing behind the tiny ears and beaming when a faint, brief purr came out of the kitten.

“Are you very well acquainted with cats, Lady Natasha?” Thor asked her.

“Kinda, yeah, I like cats. Never had one, but I like them. Clint and I fostered a really young stray once when we were on a long mission, Coulson brought it to us since he knew we were getting bored. It was really young, only a couple weeks old, kept us pretty busy.” There was a warm note in her voice, the memory a good one. And only a slight change in her voice when she said the dead agent’s name. With time, the loss got easier.

“Any idea how old this one might be?” Steve wondered, sitting down on the sectional next to Thor and sliding his foot out of his sneaker to rub it along Maurice’s furry belly.

Natasha cocked her head and thought about it for a moment. “I’d guess about eight or nine weeks, it seems old enough to have been weaned. We should take it to a vet to be sure, though.”

Steve wasn’t sure what to expect when Tony had walked into the communal area a little while later and found a super soldier, a demi-god, and an assassin crowded together on a sectional to peer at a sleeping pile of nappy fur, but the billionaire had just shrugged and poured himself a cup of coffee. "Cat, rat, or chinchilla?"

"Cat," Natasha answered, "I do not allow rats in this Tower."

Tony chuckled. “Guess it was time to get the Golden Boy over there a friend, huh?” Maurice wagged his tail from his spot on the floor as if he knew he was being talked about. 

Tony came over and glanced over the top of Thor's head to see the sleeping kitten. "It looks like a dust bunny."

"You sure know how to flatter a girl," Natasha rolled her eyes up at him with a smirk.

"It's a girl?"

"We don't know, but you probably hurt her feelings if she is."

With a mock heartfelt apology, Tony made himself a sandwich and left the kitchen a few minutes later, his voice calling back from near the elevator, “Does this mean you’ll stop dragging me on walks with your pooch, Capsicle? Take Thor and the little furball instead, they’ll enjoy it more.”

“Sunshine is good for you, Stark,” Steve shot back, smirking a little bit.

__________________________________

A trip to the vet the next day turned into getting the kitten (a little female indeed, they learned), immunized and spayed. That turned into giving it a name (Dusty was the name Thor picked, and Clint had to look it up online before he believed the demi-god when he said it was a Norse name that meant “tough like a stone of Thor”), which turned into the kitten living as a permanent fixture in the Avengers Tower.

The newly-christened kitten made fast friends with Maurice, and soon the big blond dog was attempting to get the tiny gray-brown cat to play at every opportunity, which worried Steve and Thor until they saw the kitten chase the dog across the floor on stiff little legs, jumping and bouncing to try and catch the furry tail. Maurice was delighted to have a furry friend, and the two were often found in each other’s company around the Tower. 

Napping together in patches of sun coming in the windows, Dusty would curl up on top of the sprawled out dog, occasionally letting out a tiny purr. Prancing and playing outside in the little pet park that had been slightly altered to be just as friendly for the cat as it had always been for the dog. Following around whoever had food in their hands, the dog constantly tripping over the smaller cat. It lent a domestic air to the Tower that hadn’t been there before, but if anyone noticed, they didn’t say anything.

Dusty loved Thor the most (anyone who touched the cat after Thor did always got a static shock, which made him chuckle every time), and stuck to him like glue whenever the demi-god was around, but Natasha had quickly become the cat’s second favorite. The red-haired assassin and the dust-colored cat could frequently be found curled up together, whether Natasha was in the communal living room reading, sleeping in her bedroom, or hanging out with the other Avengers. The cat did _not_ like the gym, too many noises and moving parts that could catch a stray tail, but she went just about everywhere else.

Everywhere else included the vents, where Dusty made a habit of dropping in on Clint when he was in there too, curling her tail around his arms and mewing at him until he surrendered and gave her one of the cat treats he kept hidden up there for just such an occasion. She even followed him up on the roof from time to time, winding herself around his body when he sat on the edge of the building with his legs dangling over the side, watching the city below.

The first time Dusty wandered into Tony’s lab, following the smell of the cheeseburgers he had in his hands, it was hard to say who was more startled, the bots or the cat. Dum-E had gone rolling over to investigate the little intruder, and the kitten had arched her back, puffed out her fur like she’d been electrocuted, and hissed before streaking away. It took weeks for her to venture back again, and Jarvis had given the bots data about domesticated animals to avoid another incident. 

Dusty ended up occasionally spreading out on Tony’s work table, tail twitching, curling up against a still-warm cup of coffee and watching the flickering lights of the holograms as he worked on modifying a prototype for his suits. (She only tried catching the lights once, and landing on Tony’s back, claws out, while he’d been soldering some wiring in one of the Iron Man suit gauntlets had resulted in both of them yowling in pain and/or surprise, and she hadn’t attempted it again.)

Tony had never had a pet growing up. Howard hadn’t liked animals, and always said it would be too much mess and bother, especially in a big mansion. So at first, the man behind Iron Man wasn’t quite sure how to act around the pets, although he’d never admit it. Mostly, he just stayed at a distance, not minding their presence, but not really interacting either. It didn’t help that he discovered he had an allergy to pet dander, but with the addition of a daily allergy pill (usually added to one of the smoothies Dum-E or U nudged into his hand), it was manageable. 

Over time, he got more used to the presence of the pets in the Tower, and it wasn’t unusual to find him absently stroking silky blond ears or scratching an arching gray-brown back while he worked. Clint even caught him once with Dusty perched on his shoulder, watching with careful cat eyes as the holograms in front of Tony moved at his gestures while he sipped at a cup of coffee.

Tony’s allergy also prompted him to try something out that he’d already been thinking about, and he quickly introduced a small army of Roombas to the Tower. It cut down on the pet hair and dander, and it was also turned out to be pretty hilarious. Steve had spit out his juice and actually _yipped_ when he first caught sight of a Roomba quietly cruising across the living room floor, something that both Natasha and Tony still laughed about weeks after the fact. Thor nearly tried to befriend the things before Jarvis informed him that they were not, in fact, sentient, and instead started tying little objects like feathers or scraps of fabric to the Roombas for the cat to chase.

Dusty adored the Roombas, loved chasing the stuff Thor tied to them, and even liked to ride them like a tiny queen on her mobile throne on occasion. 

She also loved batting the strap on the handle of Mjolnir, even though staying in close proximity to the Hammer made all her fur stand on end. Thor tended to leave the Hammer lying around more often after that, and could be heard chuckling at the kitten’s antics while it pawed at the leather strap, fur poofed up and sparking slightly.

Bruce enjoyed both animals, happy to pet Maurice or scratch Dusty’s head whenever they wandered over to him. He always seemed to have a soft spot for the dog in particular, and when Tony found out why, it set the stage for another animal to join the Tower.


	2. No Small Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having a dog in the Tower makes Bruce remember the dog he used to have when he was hiding out in Brazil. And all he really wants is to know that the dog is okay... until Tony finds out about it, that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, another quote for the title. "Because of the dog's joyfulness, our own is increased. It is no small gift. It is not the least reason why we should honor as love the dog of our own life, and the dog down the street, and all the dogs not yet born." -Mary Oliver
> 
> I've read some fic about Bruce finding or getting his dog he had in Brazil (Edward Norton Hulk movie), and I just had to write my take on it. I think pets can be amazingly therapeutic and supportive, especially since they don't care what you look like or who you are, as long as you're nice to them. Bruce needs all of that in his life.
> 
> [HERE ARE PICS OF THE PETS!](http://rebelmeg.tumblr.com/post/176214932166/slides-through-dont-mind-me-i-just-finally)

**Chapter Two**  
_No Small Gift_

Tony hadn’t been eavesdropping, he’d actually been mentally elbow deep in a project when he’d walked through the open door to the lab he shared with Bruce, but something about the quiet conversation Bruce was having with Jarvis caught his attention.

“I know it’s probably not gonna work, but it’s a little bit possible. Just give it a try for a few days, and let me know how it goes.”

“Of course, Dr. Banner. Are there any specific colors or markings I could look for to narrow the search?”

“Uh, he’s gray and black, pretty spotty, pointy Yoda ears, not really any markings that would set him apart that you’d see with satellite, just a larger black area on his back, but that’s not terribly rare. Start in that area I marked, and work outwards. I don’t think he had an owner before me, so I don’t know where he’d go.”

“Noted. I will inform you at once if I have any queries, doctor.”

“Thanks, Jarvis. Oh, hey, Tony.”

“Hey Green Giant. Jarvis doing a project for you?”

“Uh, kinda, not really.”

Tony cocked an eyebrow and smirked. “Is it kinky?”

Bruce rolled his eyes and smiled. “If it was, I definitely wouldn’t tell you. No, actually when I lived in Brazil a few years ago, there was a, um, a dog there that I kinda had. He, uh, found me after I… after the Other Guy came out once, I woke up to him licking my face and he just kind of followed me home. Or, well, followed me until we found a home. I never did find out what happened to him, after Ross came after me there, and with Maurice being around... I guess I just kept thinking about it. Want to know if he’s okay.”

Tony nodded at Bruce, something in his heart squeezing even though he didn’t let it show on his face as he clapped the guy on the shoulder. “Right, yeah. Well, I hope you find him.”

“Yeah, me too. Hope he’s found himself a home.”

Tony could not be faulted for following up on that conversation later, when Maurice, who had been in the lab for a visit (Pepper had brought Tony Chinese food, and Maurice LOVED dumplings), went running back up the stairs to find Steve, Tony watching the swish of his tail as he disappeared from sight.

“Jarvis, would it be considered a gross invasion of privacy to ask about the status of Project Spot that Bruce has you on?”

“Dr. Banner did not indicated that the matter was private, sir.” Jarvis informed him, but when the AI didn’t elaborate, Tony smirked a little. Who knew that tact was a thing that you could actually teach to a bundle of ones and zeroes?

“Did you find it yet? The dog?”

“I have found several possible candidates in the area that Dr. Banner specified, but it is difficult to be certain without knowing precisely what the animal looked like. The number of stray dogs in countries like Brazil is quite high, and even dogs that have an owner often do not have a collar.”

“Hmm.” Tony spun his swivel chair a few times, thinking as it rotated around and around in circles. “Let me know if he ever identifies it, okay?”

“As long as he does not object, yes, sir.”

Surprisingly (or maybe not, Tony designed him after all), it only took Jarvis four days to track down a few likely satellite images that showed dogs matching Bruce’s description.  
The AI pulled them up on a holoscreen on Bruce’s computer, and the scientist looked them over, dismissing two before studying the last one for a long minute. It was hard to tell, but…

“Huh. I think that’s him, Jarvis. There’s not any other angles, right? No Google Street View to fall back on?”

“I’m afraid not, Dr. Banner, this is the only image I have of that particular dog. The markings on the coat are quite distinguishable now that I know what I am looking for.”

Bruce leaned forward and studied the image that Jarvis had projected. It was an aerial view, of a street near where he had lived, and the dog was nearly obscured by the crowd unless the image was zoomed in tight enough. And actually, he wasn’t going off the dog’s fur to recognize it, but rather where the dog was. The woman that ran the stall the dog was standing by had always been friendly to Bruce, and when she’d learned he had a dog, had always given Bruce some scrap of food or another for him.

“See if you can get another shot of that one. It’s hard to tell, but that might be him.”

“Yes, doctor.”

A day later Jarvis was able to pull an appropriate image of the dog from a security camera in the area, and Bruce smiled when he saw the dog’s profile. “Yeah, I think that’s him. He looks pretty good. Glad he’s okay.”

Bruce saved the image to his own personal server, and continued on with his work, glad to know the dog was okay. He’d always liked that dog.

In the meantime, in a different lab, Jarvis addressed another scientist.

“Sir,”

“Yeah, buddy?” Tony was flat on his back underneath one of his cars, and he felt around for the wrench he had put down while he listened.

“Dr. Banner believes he may have found the dog he was looking for. I was able to locate it again, with a different angle that aided in identifying it.”

“Ah, that’s good news. I was hoping you’d find something. Bruce seem pleased?” Tony grunted a little as he muscled a rusted nut off a bolt.

“I believe he was, sir.”

“Great. Hey, send Dum-E over here, let’s see if he can make this more difficult than it already is. Have him chuck that small pry bar under here, this is stuck.”

“It will have to be U, sir, Dum-E is playing with Dusty.”

Tony snorted and shook his head, not quite able to suppress an amused smile. “I built a robot to help me out, and he’s playing with the kitten the God of Thunder brought home. Typical.”

\--------------------------------------

The entire thing had almost passed out of Bruce’s mind a week later, especially since Tony had informed him at one in the morning (of course they were both still up, tired and red-rimmed eyes valiantly attempting to focus on their work for just a little longer…) that they would be taking the jet out in the morning (later morning) for a quick trip. Bruce vaguely thought of asking questions (where, why, how long), but he’d been immersed in a new theory and his brain hadn’t kicked in again until after Tony had already gone.

It wasn’t until he was sitting in the ridiculously comfortable seats of the private Stark jet several hours later, packed bag stowed in the overhead storage, that Tony finally filled him in as the plane took off.

“You like Brazil in September, doc?”

Bruce hadn’t connected the dots at first, but then he caught sight of Tony’s smirk and it dawned on him.

“You know, I should have learned by now that I can’t say anything to you in passing unless I think it through first.”

Tony glanced sideways at Bruce and raised his eyebrow over the top of his designer shades. “I’m sorry, are you complaining about this little vacation?”

Bruce smiled a little as he shook his head. “No, just wondering what else I might have said that I’m gonna need to prepare myself for in the future. This time it’s a trip to Brazil to find a dog that I may or may not have had a few years ago, next time maybe it’ll be a rainforest in China because I’ve always wanted to pet a panda.

“We don’t _have_ to go all the way to China, there are zoos we can visit. Unless you want the rainforest experience, we can still do that.”

Bruce shook his head again and shot a look at his friend. “You didn’t have to do this. It might not even be the same dog.”

“Maybe not, but it’ll give you some peace of mind, won’t it?” Tony rested a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “That’s worth it in my book. So come on. Enjoy the ride, enjoy the sake, and when we land, let’s go find Rover.”

“Please, I would never name my dog Rover.”

“So what did you name it? Fido? Spot? Gamma?”

Bruce chuckled, “Nah, called him Beaux, spelled the French way.”

“Aw, made him feel like a handsome devil, I bet.”

“If it didn’t, he never told me.”

\--------------------------

Bruce had almost forgotten how crowded it was. Houses stacked on houses stacked on tiny crowded alleyways, endless numbers of people trailing this way and that, so many smells that bombarded the senses and left you reeling. He recognized the buildings, but not many of the people, but he didn’t know if that was because he’d never been friendly with many of the people before, or if there had just been a lot of change in the past couple years.

His eyes were scanning the crowd, picking out every dog they passed, but he didn’t remember there ever being this many dogs before. There seemed to be another one every few feet, but none of them was the dog he was looking for. Tony was looking too, but he kept getting distracted and making notes on his phone, heedless of the dust coating his ridiculously expensive shoes and the cuffs of his slacks.

They had been walking for about twenty minutes when Bruce’s eye caught the end of a gray and black tail disappearing around a corner further down the street, and he risked it. 

“Beaux! Hey boy, Beaux, come here!” He walked faster towards the corner and whistled a couple times, a couple other dogs further down the street looking over at his call.

A narrow gray muzzle, followed quickly by brown eyes and big upright triangle ears peeked around the corner.

“Hey, pal,” Bruce murmured, stopping in his tracks and holding out his hand, palm down. “Hi boy.”

The dog hesitated for a few seconds, and Bruce could see the black nose wiggling, sorting through the scents in the air. He waited, holding his breath, and then sighed shakily when the dog moved fully into view, tail wagging when he caught Bruce’s scent. It came over at a brisk trot, his whole backside moving side to side when he got to Bruce and nudged his nose into the scientist’s hand.

“Hi, boy. It’s good to see you.” Bruce kneeled down and rubbed both his hands over the dog’s head, scratching behind pointed ears and letting his face and hair be licked as the dog whined.

A hand suddenly clapped his shoulder, and Bruce looked up, having forgotten Tony was there for a minute. “I’m glad it’s him, Bruce.”

“Me too. It’s good to see he’s okay.”

“It’s up to you, but if you want, I got you these just in case.”

Bruce turned around, ignoring the way his pants snagged on the rough, dusty ground, and took the bundle of black leather Tony held out with one hand, keeping his other hand stroking Beaux’s neck. It was a collar and leash (expensive, probably, knowing Tony), complete with a purple metal tag that had “Beaux” stamped in blocky letters, followed by Bruce’s name and the address and phone number to the Tower.

“I don’t know if he’s fixed or not, but we can get him into the vet soon as we get home, get him all his shots and a microchip and stuff. If you want. I got all the paperwork filled out just in case.”

Bruce shook his head in slight disbelief, not really knowing what to say to it all, a smile on his face as he kept petting the dog. All he’d wanted, really, was to see if Beaux was still alive, if he was okay, make sure he had someone to take care of him. It was Tony all over for him to blow things up this big, going so far as to bring Bruce here, and arrange to bring the dog back, if that’s what Bruce wanted.

And it turned out… he did want.

“Yeah. Let’s do that. He’ll love Maurice and Dusty.”

Tony’s smile was winning and genuine. “Great! You want to hit the vet on the way home from the airport, or no?”

Bruce knew he was grinning like an idiot as he unbuckled the very well-made collar and wrapped it around Beaux’s neck, adjusting it to the right size and attaching the leash.  
“Should probably do that before we get him home, yeah. Just in case. Get him groomed, too, don’t know that he’s ever actually had a bath.”

“Done. I got a couple other collar and leash options, just in case you don’t like that one.”

“Of course I like it, it’s just fine.” Bruce stood and looped the end of the leash around his wrist, grinning down at the dog when he immediately heeled and stayed right at Bruce’s thigh.

“I know, but if you wanted something more flashy or whatever, I also got a nylon set with a different buckle style in purple, and another one in lime green. If the Other Guy likes that better. Or we can do a different color leather, I just figured your basic little black collar went with everything, but we can do whatever you want.”

Bruce rolled his eyes and chuckled as they walked back the way they came, towards the car Tony had parked inside a building he’d probably purchased just for the occasion. “This is just fine.” He alternated between glancing at Tony, looking at the ground, and smiling at his dog for a couple minutes, then, “Thank you. Really.”

Tony sent him another smile, pulling a couple granola bars out of the inside pocket of his jacket and handing one to Bruce. “No problem, Brucie Bear. Man’s best friend and all that. We stopping for food? That stall we passed on the way here looked sketchy, but I’m willing to risk it if whatever the guy is cooking tastes like it smells.”

\-------------------------------------

Tony, as usual, had over-prepared on their arrival back home, and there was practically a red carpet treatment waiting for the dog when they disembarked the jet. Tony headed for the Tower, (at Pepper’s beck and call, since she’d sent him a sext halfway through their descent that Bruce pretended not to see) but under Bruce’s watchful eye, Beaux was taken to a very high-end groomers for the five star treatment. Halfway through his bath, a vet showed up with everything he needed to get the dog taken care of, and a few hours later, Beaux was prancing out of the groomers, a freshly washed, de-fleaed, microchipped, and immunized, and obviously feeling fresh as a daisy as he and Bruce made their way home.

Maurice loved Beaux from the moment the black and gray dog set paw out of the elevator. Steve was holding him back, trying to shush the dog’s insistent whining, but finally had to let the golden retriever go and investigate. Maurice ran right up to Beaux and started sniffing, tail fanning the air as he wiggled and twisted, communicating in doggy body language that he wanted to be friends and play.

It only took Beaux a minute to warm to the other dog, and soon he was following Maurice around the communal area to meet everyone, stopping for pets and treats. Dusty was perched up on Thor’s shoulder, watching events unfold, and once Beaux had met everyone and given the area a thorough sniffing, the kitten climbed down and approached the new dog, tail upright and stiff as a reed.

Beaux sniffed at her cautiously, tail wagging minutely, keeping his distance. Reaching out with one paw, Dusty hesitated, then bopped the dog right on the nose. Beaux sneezed, making the cat jump back, but that was apparently it. Within ten minutes, both dogs were dozing in a square of sunshine coming in the windows, and Dusty was curled up between them, eyes closed and tail twitching.

By movie night the next week, it was as if the two dogs and cat had been living in the Tower forever. Jurassic Park was rolling on the screen, and all of the Avengers plus Pepper were curled, sprawled, or sitting around the room. Thor and Natasha were sitting next to each other on the sectional, with Dusty curled up on Natasha’s shoulder, leaning her tiny weight against Thor’s arm since she liked to be touching both of her people at the same time. Steve and Maurice were on the floor, the dog curled up between his owner’s knees as Steve ran his fingers through the blond fur. Beaux was sitting at Bruce’s feet, tongue flicking out at regular intervals to catch the popcorn Clint and Tony were tossing over from the other side of the sectional couch. He was a good catch too, he caught every piece, even the ones that Tony insisted were inferior because they fell short.

Clint tossed the next piece of popcorn at Maurice, and the dog’s eyes flipped open when it smelled the treat sitting right in front of his nose. “Tony, I’m jealous of all the pets, can I get a monkey?”

The “ _NO_ ” was shouted by Tony, Natasha, and Bruce in unison.

“Aw, no fair.”

“It’s okay, Clint, we’ll find you a fur baby,” Pepper said with a grin, sneaking a handful of popcorn out of his bowl (he and Tony had to have separate bowls, it was a thing, they were five year olds).

“Why can’t I have a fur baby that I can teach to shoot?”

“Because then it will know how to shoot.”

Bruce smirked at the pout on Clint's face, and reached down to scratch behind Beaux's ears. He couldn't blame Clint for wanting a fur baby, really. They were quite the gift.


	3. Two Broken Souls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone else in the Tower is getting pets, animals that help them, amuse them, befriend them. Now it's the time for one lost solider...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure it's fairly obvious, but when I write, I try to stick as close to canon as possible. I take minor liberties here and there, but I really like to stick to what the MCU puts out... even when they make stupid decisions. Given that we still don't know how the fallout of Civil War will resolve, I'm glossing over that completely, and we're just gonna pretend, for the sake of continuity in this fic, that Bucky is living in the Tower with all the other Avengers while he recovers from what HYRDA did to him. The timeline doesn't fit within the MCU, but honestly, I'm just not concerned with that right now. This would happen shortly after Bruce and Beaux's chapter, because Dusty is still a kitten.
> 
> [HERE ARE PICS OF THE PETS!](http://rebelmeg.tumblr.com/post/176214932166/slides-through-dont-mind-me-i-just-finally)
> 
> I did decide there will be one more chapter, that will be almost entirely fluffy nonsense because I had a few more pet headcanons that were too good to leave out! They're not put together into a chapter yet, but I'll get that done ASAP. In the meantime, cry over this most angsty of them all, the chapter that needed no quote for a title because it wrote itself. Bucky and his therapy dog, I love them.
> 
> BTW, the girl in the nurse's cap that is mentioned in there is from another fic of mine, [A Cure For What Ails You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11537586). That one is sweet and sad, if that's your sort of thing, and it was bittersweet to write.

**Chapter Three**  
_Two Broken Souls_

 

“You sure about this?”

Steve smiled and gently clapped Bucky on the shoulder as they walked up to the doors of the shelter. “Yep. There’s only so much I can do for you, Buck, and only so much anyone else can do. This will help. I know it will.”

Bucky shot him a hint of a smile. “You just want another friend for Mo.”

Steve rolled his eyes slightly at Bucky’s nickname for the dog (Maurice wouldn’t even look Steve if he called the dog Mo, but all Bucky had to do was put his hand palm-up and intone the name and the blond dog would trot over with a smile on his doggy face), but didn’t deny it. Truth be told, Steve had been helped _so much_ by having Maurice, and he knew it could be one of the best things he ever did for Bucky, getting him an animal. Animals were loving and forgiving and didn’t care what you looked like or who you were or what nightmares ruled your past. They just wanted you to pet them, and they’d love you forever.

Bucky said nothing as the woman that ran the shelter warmly greeted Steve (of course she remembered him, who would forget Captain America, or the extremely generous check he’d snuck into the paperwork when he’d adopted his dog?) and inquired about Maurice, but Bucky nodded at her politely and his face only tightened slightly when she extended her hand for him to shake.

“Did you have any kind of animal in mind?” She asked, smiling between the two super soldiers, looking remarkably unfazed by their presence.

Steve glanced at Bucky, in case he’d formed an opinion since Steve had asked a few days ago, then shook his head. “Nope. Just seeing who’s here.”

She nodded and led them back, talking about the different kinds of animals they currently had at the shelter. A couple rabbits and guinea pigs, some mice and rats, a ferret, about a dozen cats of varying ages and breed, and about twenty or so different dogs.

“We’ve got two dogs at home already, medium-big sized, and a young cat. So probably an animal that would do okay with a crowd.” Steve supplied, trying to covertly watch Bucky for his reactions as they walked through the building. 

One half of the shelter was devoted to dog kennels and a large grooming area, and the other half had the lobby, small office, and rooms for the cats and small animals. The hall that ran down the middle had doors along each side, with windows that looked into the different rooms. The woman paused at each one, talking about what was going on at the shelter, the new dog that had been brought in and was being deloused, a cat that was recovering from a bad eye infection, how they’d had to put the ferret into a cage with an actual lock because it had figured out how to get out of the standard one.

Bucky looked in each window as they passed, glancing at the assorted animals, but nothing in particular was grabbing his attention. He was pretty sure he wasn’t going to find something here that caught his eye, but Steve had been bound and determined to give this a try, so Bucky would see it through. If for no other reason than to get Steve to stop looking sad anytime he caught Bucky petting Maurice.

They saw the dogs last, running around in the back yard all together, a few other shelter people supervising and throwing balls and distributing toys and treats. Steve smiled as three or four dogs ran their way, holding a hand out to smell, keeping one eye on Bucky as the silent supersoldier scanned the perimeter.

For a minute, even Bucky’s trained eyes missed seeing it, the light brown fur blending in almost perfectly with the shady side of the shed against the fence across from them. But on his second pass around the yard, he picked out the irregular shape, and realized that it was a dog, huddled back in the corner made by the side of the shed and the chain-link fence, sitting back on its haunches with its head hanging down, leaning into the small building like it was trying to disappear.

Like he was being drawn by a magnet, pulled by an unknown force, Bucky slowly made his way over. There was… an almost overwhelming number of dogs running and jumping and barking and even coming right up to Bucky and sniffing at his legs, but he just kept moving, inexorably, until he was standing just a few yards away and could get a good look at the dog hiding away alone in the corner.

It was a little hard to tell, but he thought it might have been a pitbull, but on the small side. Maybe still a puppy, even. It had light brown fur, with a white patch on its chest and around its dark brown nose. Its ears and tail hadn’t been cut down, which he liked. He never had felt right with the idea of a little puppy having parts of itself cut off unnecessarily, even before he’d had parts of himself cut off. 

And then Bucky saw that it was missing a leg. The front right leg, and the empty space where it should have been was pressed against the side of the shed. _Coincidence, much?_

The dog hadn’t lifted its head when Bucky approached, but he had the feeling the dog knew he was there. He didn’t want to scare it, so he just paused for a moment, considering, then sank to the ground and sat cross-legged on the grass, leaning his elbows on his knees so he didn’t bend the chain-link fence at his back out of shape with his weight. The dog didn’t move, just remained where it was, head down, cowering in the corner, eyes closed.

The woman that ran the shelter was watching the two of them, Bucky knew that without looking, and he heard the sadness in her voice from clear across the yard with his enhanced hearing, filtering through the white noise and dog sounds to find human speech. “He might have a hard time with that one, poor thing.”

Steve’s heartbeat increased a tick, indicating surprise. “Why do you say that?”

“She’s been here for about a month, and we’ve all tried, but we’ve made no progress with her at all. We think she was pretty severely abused before she was brought here, she was on the brink of dying of dehydration and starvation, and had been attacked by someone or something. We had to remove her front leg because it was so badly damaged, and it took a week before she could stomach much food. Now she’s afraid of everything. She won’t even play with the other dogs, she just slinks back to that corner every time we come out here, and then slinks back to her kennel to cower in the corner. Shakes every time someone comes near her, and won’t even look at anyone. I… I don’t even know if there’s anything we can do, to be honest. I don't know if she can recover, and the alternative... it breaks my heart. We don’t think she’s even a year old yet, she’s still just a puppy.”

Bucky risked a quick glance at them. The woman’s eyes were bright and damp, and Steve had that expression on his face that made Bucky think, ironically enough, of a kicked puppy. He was pretty sure, as Steve’s eyes flicked to meet Bucky’s, that he knew what was going on in that punk’s head. That shelter woman was sorry for a little dog that had a sad past and possibly no future, and Steve… was sorry for a broken man with the same thing.

Bucky took a very long, very slow breath, practicing control over his body like Dr. Banner had been trying to teach him. _Control over the body means control over the mind._

A tiny sound made him turn his head, tugged from his own thoughts (which was a godsend). The dog’s eyes were open, and he could see that they were brown, lifted slightly to stare straight ahead even as her head stayed down. He almost wanted to hold his hand out, try and pet the poor creature, but he knew it was too soon. The dog had possibly spent the entirety of her life alone and abused, fending for herself and being terrified of everything. He had to wait, to give her time.

She made him remember, in a distant and strange way, of the first time he had befriended Steve. Bucky had been eleven years old, and Steve had been a painfully skinny ten year old kid that was all of fifty-five pounds soaking wet, and trying to fight off a group of bullies keen on robbing him of his money. Except, Steve had been as fierce and full of righteous anger then as he was now, and this little dog cowering next to Bucky looked as beaten and downtrodden as the world had always tried to make Steve.

With a lump in his throat, Bucky looked over at her again and saw that the dog’s brown eyes were finally looking over at him, and damn, but there was a well of sadness in them.

“Hey,” He murmured, keeping his voice low. Very slowly, he slid his right arm off his knee and set his hand on the grass, inching it over bit by bit until it was close enough that the dog could smell it if she leaned over. She didn’t, but he saw her eyes drop to his hand, then back up to his face. He only held her gaze for a moment, then shifted it away, trying to communicate to her that he wasn’t a threat.

Across the yard, he saw the woman that ran the shelter come back outside, holding a few cans of soda. She offered one to Steve, opened one herself, and put the other on the little table in between the chairs she and Steve settled into. They seemed perfectly content to sit and talk, Bucky heard Maurice’s name come up, and saw Steve smile as he told the woman more about how the big blond dog was doing. Punk was obviously determined to give Bucky as much time as he wanted, so Bucky returned his attention to the little dog next to him, using his peripheral vision to gauge a reaction before he slowly looked over again.

She had been looking at him, but turned away when his eyes landed on her.

“Hey, good girl,” Bucky murmured, inching his hand a fraction closer. “It’s okay. You’re a good girl.”

For a second, he had a wild impulse to laugh. He’d had a sudden, vivid mental image of a pretty blonde girl with red-painted lips pop up in his head, scowling viciously at him because he’d dared to call her a good girl, _“Like a **dog** , Bucky, that’s insulting.”_

A smile curled his lips, and he tucked the moment away into the growing pile of memories that would come to him at random times, sometimes related to something going on around him, sometimes not. 

He had memories of four different girls now, all young and pretty, one in a nurse’s cap that stood out for a reason that he didn’t know yet. 

He had remembered everyone in his family now, according to Steve. His ma, with brown hair like his and eyes that always looked tired. His dad, broad-shouldered and ruddy-faced from working hard down at the docks. His four siblings, different colored eyes on every single one of them, but the same clefted chin as his. 

He had remembered the first time Steve landed a solid punch on him in Goldie’s Gym when he was trying to teach the scrawny guy to fight, to defend himself. 

He had remembered telling Steve he had enlisted in the army, lying to him, because he didn’t want Steve to know that he’d had no intention of going off to war. He’d been drafted, and had strongly considered fighting it, because he knew there was a chance he might not come back, and what would happen to Steve if the punk had no one left in the world?

He had remembered telling Steve he’d been assigned to the 107th, that last night in Brooklyn, having to look down and school the anger from his features, how he had to pretend to be proud to be going when he was so damn worried about Steve that it made him sick inside.

He had remembered… a lot of things from being a prisoner. Those things were in a different place in his head, locked away until his mind was strong enough to touch them again without fighting back.

He had remembered Agent Peggy Carter, and the smile on Steve’s face when he looked at her, and thought no one was looking at him.

He had remembered the train, reaching for Steve and being so, so scared that he was going to fall, to die, to never have another day. Waking up as he was being dragged through the snow, bleeding into all the white, his arm gone.

More captivity. More torture. So much more. So much pain that he couldn't breathe if he let himself touch those memories.

He remembered every single person he had been sent to kill... _The man on the bridge..._

Gasping a little bit, Bucky wrenched himself out of his own head, and had to blink several times before he remembered where he was. He glanced over, feeling a slight sheen of sweat on his face, worried that he’d scared the little dog, but instead… she was looking right back at him, and her head had lifted up a bit from where it had been slumped against her chest.

“Sorry,” He whispered, holding her gaze for another second before looking away.

Yeah. Get a dog. _Great idea, Steve._ Can’t even be up in his own head for five minutes without coming blindingly close to panic, and he was supposed to take care of a dog?

A sniffing sound and the tickle of whiskers on his fingertips almost made Bucky jump, but he caught it at the last second, forcing himself not to jump or freeze up. He peeked over out of the corner of his eye, and was surprised to see the little brown dog leaning over towards him, braced on her single front paw, her head down and sniffing at his hand.

“That’s it. Thatta girl.”

She glanced up at him again, registering the notes of praise in his gentle murmur, then went back to sniffing his hand, moving up slightly to the cuff of his jacket. It was almost eighty degrees out, and sunny, but Bucky was always cold. He never had less than four layers of long sleeves on if he could help it.

“Hey, Buck?”

He looked up at Steve’s carefully modulated call and inclined his head slightly to indicate that he heard, not wanting to startle the dog again when they seemed to be making progress.

“You wanna try to feed her or anything?”

Bucky glanced at the dog, still looking hesitant, but still leaned over and sniffing at his jacket. She didn’t look like she was too thin, he couldn’t see her ribs through her light brown coat. And he wasn’t sure that him getting up or anyone coming over would be helpful.

He looked back at Steve and shook his head minutely.

“All right.” Steve went back to chatting with the shelter woman.

Bucky looked back over at the dog, and saw her eyes lift to his, even as she kept smelling his jacket, up to his elbow now. He smiled at her a little, making a little humming noise in his throat, then looked back down. She just needed time. And he could give her that.

The sun moved slow in the sky as the minutes passed, the shadow from the shed creeping slowly across the grass. The shelter woman called all the dogs inside, but Bucky’s dog didn’t go, and instead scooted back against the fence a little more, as if she were refusing to be moved.

The shelter woman smiled when she saw it, and let the little dog be, leaving Steve in his chair and Bucky on the grass, the yard empty and quiet.

After a little while, the dog had hesitantly lied down on the grass, her ears pressed back tight to her head, watching Bucky for any sign of a reaction. He didn’t move except for glancing over occasionally or wiggling his fingers, and soon her eyes were drooping. She fell asleep almost against her will, her head resting on her front paw, relaxing a little bit in sleep.

Bucky stayed where he was, holding still. Startling the poor thing from a sound sleep wouldn’t do anything good. Nearly an hour had passed, Bucky whiling away the minutes in the sun, almost feeling warm once or twice, when the dog suddenly huffed a little bit, and opened her eyes. They flew to Bucky first, wide with panic, but when he didn’t move or say anything, the little body visibly relaxed.

She got to her feet, a little unsteady for a moment as she adjusted her weight to lean on her single front leg, then stretched and yawned. With a quick little shake that went from her ears to her tail, she took a few steps forward and looked around the yard, her nose twitching as she scented the air.

Steve had been slouching in the lawn chair, head leaned back and dozing, but he’d woken up as soon as the dog moved. He sat up abruptly, rubbing at his face, and the movement startled the dog so much that she jumped back a full foot and stumbled. Bucky was almost ready to yell at Steve for scaring the poor thing, but then something pretty miraculous happened.

Instead of racing for the doggy door that led into the kennels, or diving back into her corner by the shed, the dog instead ran around to the other side of Bucky, keeping her eye on Steve, sitting her rump on the grass with her back to the fence, staring at the blond supersoldier as if he were an imminent threat and she had to watch him to make sure he didn’t make any more sudden moves.

Bucky had to bite his lip to stifle a laugh. Somewhere under that beaten-down exterior, there might just be a feisty little thing waiting for a little love to let it out.

“Don’t you worry about Steve, little girl.” Bucky murmured, and her ears twitched in his direction even though she refused to take her eyes off Steve. “He likes dogs. He’s got a big ‘un at home named Maurice, takes care of that ball of fur like he’s a big baby and Steve is the proud papa.”

The dog shot him the quickest of glances, but then stiffened and all but glared at Steve again when the punk failed to smother a laugh. He’d obviously heard Bucky’s words (they’d never have a secret from each other again at this rate, with their enhanced hearing), and he was still working on getting that big dopey grin off his face when the woman came back outside.

Steve was obviously no longer a threat with the shelter woman occupying his attention, and the dog relaxed, looking over at Bucky.

“Hey, little girl. See? I told you he was okay. Mo likes him. Beaux does too. They're good dogs, you can trust them.”

Bucky had been sitting in the same position for going on two hours now, and he was starting to get stiff. He could ignore it, of course, for hours or even days at a time if he had to. That was even his first impulse. But he’d been working, trying really hard, to break the kinds of habits that were holding on from before. Taking himself back, so to speak.

Moving slowly, he started at his neck and worked his way down, shifting and readjusting his muscles and bones so he was still in mostly the same position, but a little more comfortable. He tipped his head from side to side to loosen up his neck, rolled his shoulders minutely to ease the tension, arched his back and sat up straighter, bending his torso slightly one way and then the other, stretching each arm out slowly in front of him, flexing the muscles and rotating his wrists.

At his side, the dog’s head tilted to one side, catching Bucky’s attention, then tipped back again, her ears pricking up, her eyes fixed… on his metal hand.

Bucky was tempted to tug down the sleeve of the sweatshirt he was wearing under the jacket, cover up the metal digits so the dog couldn’t see them anymore. Her ears twitched again when he pulled his arms back in to rest on his thighs, and he realized she could hear the gears and servos inside the arm whirring under the layers of sleeves.

He was about to stretch out his legs and work out the discomfort in them when the dog leaned forward, just a little bit, her dark brown nose wiggling and her eyes flipping up and down between Bucky’s metal hand to his face, as if waiting for a reaction.

Bucky really just wanted to shift away, keep that innocent little dog as far away from that arm as he could get, but he knew if he did, he’d undo everything he’d accomplished between the two of them. So he forced himself to sit still, let her sniff, and keep his reactions contained.

She inched forward, the little nose practically dancing right off her face it was wiggling so much, getting closer and closer to him. Bucky focused on his breathing, long, slow breaths, and didn’t flinch when the sensors in the arm detected the sensation of the little whiskers on her muzzle and the brush of her breathing on the back of his hand. But then a moment later, the dog’s pink tongue emerged and dragged a single gentle lick right across the metal knuckles. 

Bucky froze, but he managed not to recoil, holding his breath as he stared at the little dog in disbelief.

The dog sensed his turmoil, and her ears suddenly flattened against her head and she leaned back, looking away as her head drooped.

“Hey, no,” Bucky murmured, and without thinking about it, flipped his metal palm up and nudged it over to the dog, letting the thumb stroke so carefully into the soft-looking white patch of fur on her chest.

She stopped, not moving for a moment, then her brown eyes turned back to him… and she leaned just slightly into his touch.

Bucky slowly tickled the hair on her chest, his throat suddenly feeling tight, then moved the metal hand up very slowly, stroking her neck and silky-looking ears, the sensors in his arm translating the smooth texture and body warmth. He kind of ached all of a sudden to touch the dog with his real arm, feel the fur with his fingers, but he didn’t want to move too fast. So he just sat, gently slipping his metal digits along her ears, scratching lightly behind them, petting her small head.

Across the yard, Steve was watching him, and so was the shelter woman, and Bucky saw her shaking her head slightly out of the corner of his eye. 

“You wanna know something?” She said, and Bucky saw Steve look at her.

She nodded over at Bucky and the dog, and Bucky made sure to avert his gaze. “That’s the first time I’ve seen her let anyone touch her without shaking or crying.”

Steve had that kicked puppy look on his face again, and he swallowed hard like it hurt.

Bucky felt a little bit choked up too, come to think of it.

It was five minutes of slowly and softly stroking the little dog’s head and ears before her eyes closed, and another before she sighed, shifting her feet. Then twelve minutes passed, and she slowly laid down on the grass… resting her head on Bucky’s knee.

“Hey, little girl.” Bucky whispered, his voice not working right all of a sudden, coming out broken and shaky. “Hey there. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

\--------------------------

It took a couple weeks of adjusting before Bucky’s new dog, Little Girl (Natasha took to calling her Malyshka, the Russian translation, but only when Bucky was out of earshot since hearing Russian spoken aloud still sent him into a wind tunnel of panic), seemed comfortable enough in her new home to try venturing away from Bucky’s side for any length of time when someone else was in the room. It was unclear whether she was glued to his side for her own safety, or if it was her way of protecting Bucky, but either way, coming across the former Winter Soldier sprawled out on one entire side of the sectional couch in the communal living room with a little brown pitbull/boxer mix dog curled up on his chest with her head on his metal arm was pretty darn cute. Steve'd had to cover his mouth the first time he saw it, muffling an entirely unmanly squeal of excitement and adorableness overload.

The dog wouldn’t go near anyone else for a solid eight days at first, shying away from any hand that offered itself for a sniff, often hiding behind Bucky’s legs and burying her head in the backs of his knees. She’d let the other animals come near her though, and even wagged her tail a few times when Maurice tried to get her to play, but she stayed pretty reserved. She seemed downright terrified of Dusty the kitten at first, until Beaux had padded into the room, picked up the little cat gently in his mouth, and carried it right out again like a mama dog trying to keep her puppy in line. After that, Little Girl slowly warmed up to the gray cat, and around the same time that she finally let Pepper carefully stroke her head (Steve had been green with envy that Pepper got to pet her first), she let the kitten curl up next to her on Bucky’s chest and take a nap.

Once she got comfortable around everyone, and progressed to the point that she didn’t even shy away from Thor when he held out a hand to pet her (she was afraid of the men more than the women, and the bigger the man, the longer it took for Little Girl to trust him), Bucky started looking into training. Steve had all but shoved an entire library’s worth of material at him about dogs that were trained to help people with disabilities, emphasizing the dogs that were trained to assist combat veterans with PTSD. He even went so far as to make Bucky watch an entire documentary about different dogs and the owners and trainers they had, and how the dogs were trained in different ways to help their people. (Bucky wouldn’t admit it, but he had enjoyed the movie, and had been very interested in hearing about the ways the dogs helped the soldiers.)

Little Girl was a quick study, and it only took a matter of weeks for her to be able to tell when Bucky was on the verge of having a problem. Sometimes he got lost in his head again, lost in memories, and she would crawl into his lap and lick his face, bringing him back to himself. 

Other times he’d get a suddenly remembered flash of a memory, something horrible and unpleasant, or even something completely harmless that he wasn’t expecting, and the surge of emotion would catch him off-guard and send the panic rising. Little Girl would cuddle up against Bucky’s chest, whining a little, pawing at his thigh carefully with her front leg until he put both hands on her solid shoulders, his metal hand partially covering the scar from where her right leg used to be. 

Once she had woken him from a nightmare, her cries pulling him from a vortex of fear and horror, and she had curled up in Bucky’s arms until he had stopped shaking.

It didn’t happen all at once. It didn’t even happen all that quickly. But a little at a time, one day at a time, one person at a time, one memory at a time, Bucky and his Little Girl slowly started conquering their demons. And they did it together, taking care of each other.

“Told you so,” Steve said one night, several months after they had come home from the shelter with Little Girl, glancing over at Bucky. They were stretched out on opposite sides of the sectional, watching Star Wars for the fourth time, their dogs curled up on their owners’ legs.

Bucky didn’t say anything, but he did fire a tennis ball at Steve’s head, the one he’d been idly rolling over and over in his hand. Maurice, who had a sixth sense about tennis balls, jumped up on Steve’s chest with full-throttle enthusiasm, knocking the wind out of him and rubbing his cold, wet nose all over Steve’s neck while he dug for the ball.

Bucky just smiled to himself and stroked Little Girl’s ears, his eyes on Luke Skywalker and Princess Leia as Steve cussed him out from underneath a hundred pounds of blond fur. 

Right at this moment… Bucky's life was just fine.


	4. It's a Zoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit from Jane and Darcy, and then we finish rounding out the cast of Earth's Mightiest Pets, extending our warmest welcome to... Cheerio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it took me forever, but I finally managed to stick all the remaining bits and pieces together into a chapter that seems to flow decently enough! I had to stick in the headcanon of Thor and the horses, and when I was spitballing ideas of which pets each MCU character would have, I busted up laughing at the idea of Darcy having a snake, so I had to bring that in somewhere (and Darcy is one of my faves, so I had to invited Darcy to the party). And we couldn't neglect Tony. Cheerio only has a short bit in this chapter, but I just ran out of steam and couldn't think of anything else to add to it, so we're gonna call this good! 
> 
> I've had a lot of fun writing this, I'm a huge animal lover and everyone needs fur baby love in their life.
> 
> [HERE ARE PICS OF THE PETS!](http://rebelmeg.tumblr.com/post/176214932166/slides-through-dont-mind-me-i-just-finally)
> 
> As always, I despise typos in my work, so if you spot one, PLEASE let me know! Also, if a sentence doesn't flow well, or if there's anything confusing or grammatically irritating, let me know about that too.

**Chapter Four**  
_It's a Zoo_

Jane Foster smiled fondly as she watched the video Tony had pulled up on his tablet for her, a clip of Thor holding the kitten he and Natasha co-owned. The tiny scientist giggled, leaning her elbows on the communal kitchen table and resting her chin on her hand when Thor yelped in the video and gingerly tugged Dusty’s claws out of his arm, his fingers delicate on the tiny paws.  
“That is way cuter than it should be.”

“He dotes on all of them.” Natasha said with a smile of her own, shaking her head as she watched the clip too. “Plays catch and rough-houses with the dogs all the time, but Dusty is his favorite. It’s ridiculous, of all the pets for the god of thunder to have… and he picked a scrappy little kitten.”

“To be fair, you did too,” Clint pointed out from across the table, pointing his spoon at Natasha. He was eating fruit loops with marshmallows at three in the afternoon, but they had all learned not to question his violently unhealthy eating habits. “Assassin that lets a kitten use her as a bed, that’s ironic too.”

Jane perked up as she handed the tablet back to Tony, “Oh, Thor’s got horses too, aside from Dusty.”

Clint looked at her in confusion, speaking around a mouthful of mostly sugar. “You mean on Asgard?”

“No, well, I mean, I assume he does, but no, he’s got a couple here too.”

Tony looked at her in alarm. “There are _horses_ in my _Tower_?! Jarvis, what the hell?!”

Jane rolled her eyes, “No, not _here_! They’re on a ranch he bought upstate. He got a horse for each of us, we go on weekends when we’ve both got time. He’s trying to teach me to ride, I haven’t since I was a kid.”

Natasha’s eyebrows were furrowed. “How… did Thor buy a ranch and two horses?”

They went silent for a moment, trying to sort that one out. How _did_ Thor do that? All eyes turned to Tony and he shrugged. “Hey, I haven’t seen any property purchases cross my desk that looked weird, so it wasn’t the credit card I gave him.”

At that moment, Thor came into the kitchen, Dusty perched on his shoulder and Mjolnir swinging from his hand. “Jane! Jarvis informed me you had arrived! Now we are just awaiting Lady Darcy.”

Jane grinned as he approached, her face lit with humor. “Thor, tell them about the horses you got for us.”

Thor smiled and leaned down to kiss her, spending rather longer on it than people usually did while in public, but no one seemed to mind. That was just Thor. “Fine animals, both of them. A spirited little mare for my Lady Jane, and a good, strong steed for myself.”

She looked like she was trying to hold back a laugh. “Too bad they imprinted on the wrong people.”

Thor frowned and opened his mouth, but Jane beat him to it, looking around at them with a smug grin. “His horse likes me best.”

Thor practically scowled. “I have never known a horse to be so obstinate in their affections before, but yes, my steed truly does love Jane best. He would throw me from my saddle at every opportunity if he could, he is quite headstrong.”

“And Astrid is just smitten with you.” Jane’s eyes were sparkling as she teased Thor, and it would have almost been sickeningly adorable if not for the faint flush that appeared on the demi-god’s cheeks. “She follows him around like a puppy and nickers at him constantly, it’s adorable.”

Thor was looking like he was trying to valiantly ignore the blush that was only worsening on his face. “Well, she is a very good horse.”

“Stigr is good too, he just likes me better.” Jane turned to Natasha. “He’ll nuzzle at my hand and snuffle at me all the time, but he won’t give Thor the time of day.”

A voice down the hall by the elevator got everyone’s attention, a woman’s voice muttering, “Well, this is just freaking ridiculous, what do these people have against labels, why can’t we have a sticker by the correct button.” Her voice raised, “Jane? Is this the right floor?”

“Again, Miss Lewis, this _is_ the floor you have been trying to find, and I would have been happy to provide assistance had you requested it.” Jarvis managed to sound exasperated and polite at the same time, and Tony smirked from behind his tablet.

“Yeah, we’re in here!” Jane called to her friend/intern, and the dark-haired young woman peeked around the corner, looking slightly relieved to see people she recognized. 

“Geez, finally. Whose idea was it to not label the buttons on the elevator, seriously, you don’t even have a map or anything.”

Tony raised his hand, not looking even the slightest bit offended. “That’d be me.”

Darcy looked… maybe a little star-struck at seeing the superhero/billionaire/celebrity just casually sipping coffee at the same table with Jane (and Black Widow, AND Hawkeye, she wasn’t in Kansas anymore, Toto), but she took it all in stride. “You should at least provide visitors with a cheat sheet, I mean, really. I think I bumped into Captain America like four floors down, and I don’t know who was more surprised, him or me. Cute dog, though. And those pecs he’s got, by the way? Oh my gawd. The guy, not the dog.”

Tony’s shoulders were shaking slightly as he pursed his lips to keep from laughing. “I’ll take that under advisement, thanks.”

Darcy nodded, looking pleased with herself. “Anytime. So, Jane, Raindrop Wielder, we hanging here or going out?”

Yeah… Tony didn’t even try to hold it back this time, he just burst out laughing as he left the room, talking over his shoulder as he went. “Jane, I’m holding you to a science date with me and Big Green, you can bring her too, she’s got that kind of twisted humor I really like!”

Jane sighed, but it was at least twice as fond as she meant it to be. “Great, now I’m going to have to keep you from terrorizing Tony Stark and from traumatizing a scientist with known anger issues.”

Darcy shot her half a glare, “Um, excuse you, Dr. ‘Don’t Leave Me Alone For Five Minutes Or I’ll Get Into Shenanigans’ Foster, you are the problem child in this relationship and don’t pretend otherwise.”

Jane rolled her eyes, but Thor was looking a little bit thoughtful as he casually petted Dusty’s ears, making the cat purr like a truck. “Lady Darcy does have a point. You do have a tendency to get into ‘shenanigans’, if I am interpreting that word correctly.”

Darcy nodded as she took a little tour around the kitchen, making an effort not to stare at the remaining famous people even though both spies were eyeballing her pretty openly. “She hit the gas and drove straight into an inter-dimensional wormhole, and _she wasn’t even driving the vehicle_. She drove you, a complete stranger out to that crater after hitting you with that same van she hadn’t been driving, twice. Tried to jump some super-secret agent that stole her stuff. Oh, and she fell head over heels for a mythological demi-god, so… yeah, all of these are proving my point.”

Clint and Natasha were both grinning at Darcy now, which was either going to be awesome or horrific later on. Dusty the cat jumped off Thor’s shoulder and picked her way across the table to Natasha, climbing up on her shoulder and leaning out as far as she could to sniff at Darcy.

“Hi,” She said, reaching out a finger to pet the kitten’s head, grinning when it purred. “You’re cute.”

“Anyway,” Jane said, “I was going to suggest that we—”

“Where did I leave my coffee?”

Tony was back, Beaux at his heels this time, glaring around for his missing mug, and Darcy helpfully pointed at it, sitting on the table.

“I was inspired, by the way” She said casually, leaning against the counter and dipping into the cookie jar as she looked at Jane and Thor (yes, the Avengers had a cookie jar, and yes, Tony was offended that it was a Batman cookie jar), “You two have got all these pets running around, and my apartment suddenly looked so lonely.” Her black-painted nails scratched behind Beaux’s big triangle ears when he bumped his head up under her hand, and she offered him a piece of her cookie. “You’re cute.”

“What animal did you procure for yourself, Lady Darcy?” Thor asked, sitting down in one of the chairs around the table and picking Jane up right out of hers, settling her on his lap while she sputtered a little and blushed.

“A snake.”

Tony choked on his coffee.

“He’s cute, he’s a four foot long corn snake. He sleeps a lot.”

Jane was looking at Darcy with mixed confusion and horror on her face. “You have… a snake? As a pet?”

“Yeah, well, it was either that or a bird, and apparently birds are pretty messy, so yeah. I named him Bambi.”

Tony choked on his coffee again, this time from laughing, and he decided to leave the room permanently before he snorted anything up his nose. He had to go check on the extension of the pet park, and he was working up a schematic for a secondary indoor park as well, big enough for the Big and Blonds to play fetch in with the dogs. Beaux trotted after him, still licking his lips to get all the cookie crumbs, and the two disappeared around the corner, listening to the conversation in the kitchen until the voices faded away.

\--------------------

Tony almost felt left out, at the end of the day, being one of the only ones in the Tower that didn’t have some creature or another (Maria Hill even mentioned once that Fury had a goldfish tucked away in his office, one that she’d given him when her cat kept trying to eat it, so even everyone Tony knew at SHIELD had a pet and he didn’t). He briefly considered getting a parrot, just so he could teach it swear words to screech out every time Steve came into the room, because that would never be unfunny.

Instead… Clint and Pepper teamed up not long after and got him… a hamster. A _hamster_. Tony had never been more offended in his _life_ , he almost would have preferred a snake like Dr. Foster's weird friend, and if his bots hadn’t loved the damn furball so much, he would have set it free in the park to be eaten by the first feral creature it came across. The ridiculous hunks of metal had literal squabbles over who got to feed the little tan bit of fluff, and clean the cage and refill the water bottle. And they had _named it_.

“No. You can’t be serious. They named it Cheerio?!”

Jarvis managed to sound pleased, proud, and amused at the same time. “After the breakfast cereal, yes sir.”

Tony dragged his hands down his face and glanced over at the rodent, who was currently asleep inside… oh, for hell’s sake, was that an old arc reactor casing?!

“Jarvis… I’m never going to be able to get rid of that thing, am I?”

“Not unless you wish you incite a mutiny, sir. I do believe Agent Barton has become quite attached to it as well, apparently he was the one that picked it out. It was the only one of the hamsters that bit him.”

Tony rolled his eyes, anticipating a near-permanent fixture in the vent over his lab so Clint could keep an eye on his fur baby. “Great. You let one dog in your Tower, and suddenly it’s a zoo.”

He slid a quick glance over at the hamster’s cage, watching Dummy meticulously pick up each individual pellet of food that the bot had spilled when it was feeding time, his claw delicately placing one bit after the other into the hamster’s dish. And if Jarvis saw the little smile on Tony’s face, he didn’t say anything.

\-----------------------------

It was a full Tower, full of broken people that sometimes (or often) struggled through the days, and the assorted animals that helped them through it. 

Steve chased Maurice through the halls on a daily basis, the energetic dog nearly giving the supersoldier a run for his money. 

Dusty never touched the floor if she didn’t want to, hitching a ride on Thor or Natasha’s shoulders on a frequent basis, finding spots of sunshine and warm dog bellies to nap on when she wasn’t chasing Roombas. 

Bruce and Beaux were nearly always together, Beaux cocking his head when Bruce talked to him, spinning scientific theories aloud and asking the dog’s advice. 

Bucky and Little Girl healed together, two kind and affectionate souls resurfacing from where they had been buried deep by past abuse, slowly but steadily getting to the point that they could really live again.

Clint was caught, more than once, firing actual cheerios into Cheerio’s cage from his spot in the vent, Dummy and U beeping excitedly at the new game while Tony loudly complained about how disruptive the hamster was, with absolutely zero intentions of ever doing anything about it.

Like Tony had said, it was a zoo, a bit. But in the very best of ways, full of silky blond ears, sleek dust-colored fur, spotty black and gray coats, shy brown eyes, and twitching whiskers. Besides, nothing ever really made a house a home like a pet did. Turned out, the same theory worked for Towers too.


End file.
